


black cat, white cat

by Authoress



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Espionage AU, M/M, an unsurprising marvel cameo, blame minami and phichit, childhood crush to rivals to lovers, i put a meme in here im so sorry, it's me so there's angst, lots of seduction, minami does jello shots, phichit is a true bro, rival spies, some violence, somehow there's still skating, spy rings under cover as national skating teams, too many jokes for so serious a job, yuri tries to kill yuuri (repeatedly)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: It's one thing to see your idol in the flesh, skating on ice he was born to dance on.It's another to point a gun at him and be greeted with that same smile you fell in love with.(in which Yuuri punches, shoots at, seduces, dances on, and in other words, falls in love with Viktor, and Viktor with him)





	

**Author's Note:**

> why hello everyone, and welcome to my espionage au. i am so VERY excited to introduce part one and even more excited to work on part two. there will also be a playlist to accompany this fic as soon as i find a suitable cover and organize my music. let me know what you think!  
> EDIT: if you read the version with typos, my deepest condolences. there were.....more than expected.
> 
> also minami is a trans girl. sorry, i make the rules.

 

Like the memory of his first snow, Yuuri will never forget the first time he saw Viktor Nikiforov.

He was twelve, racing Yuuko home from the convenience store, their handlers trailing them at a distance. It was snowing that night—not his first, but one of many snows that Yuuri had become accustomed to during his life at Hasetsu—and the air had a certain chill to it, the kind that crawled into his lungs and stung his cheeks as he panted. With the strange lighting of overcast skies just after sunset, it was as if something magical could happen to him and his best friend, panting beside him.

“Beat you!” Yuuri declared, climbing up the steps to the Ice Castle and tagging the glass door.

“No fair,” Yuuko gasped. “Had a…head start…”

Yuuri stuck his tongue out at her and she returned the gesture. So maybe he had had a bit of a head start, but it was only fair, given that Yuuko was the fastest of the fledglings. Her speed on the ice and on land was unmatched by even some of the senior agents.

“I’m going to be first on the ice today!” Yuuri said.

“Katsuki! Nishigori!” Yamada-san, one of their handlers called from behind them. “Straight to the locker room. No training tonight.”

…Figured.

Yuuko had the smuggest look on her face and marched obediently into the locker room, Yuuri trailing behind her. Their handlers had set up a television in front of the benches, probably planning to show them some more performance skills or if they were lucky, jumps.

“Yamada-san,” Yuuko asked sweetly, “what are we watching today?”

“The competition,” Yamada-san had said. “The ones you need to look out for.”

At the time, Yuuri had thought he meant only skating competition. They were pushed harder than what was normal, taken out of school and taught by their handlers rather than going to middle and high school, but he and Yuuko hadn’t realized anything was out of the ordinary until the first time a knife was pressed into their hands and they learned strikes and hand-to-hand combat alongside ballet.

Yamada-san showed them the top skaters around the world, but none of them stuck out quite like Viktor did. Yuuri remembers seeing silver and glittering black and, oh, then it was over. Long hair and a flowing uniform that only accentuated the fluidity of their movements…there had been no one like this person on the ice ever before, Yuuri was sure of it. He couldn’t even tell their gender—the lines of their jaw were sharp and the muscle control impeccable, but each sweep of their arms were organic and graceful, balancing femininity and masculinity flawlessly.

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Yamada-san had said. “A gold medalist and the pride and joy of Russia. He is to be your ultimate enemy and god willing, we will take him down.”

Things like coming in first didn’t matter when Yuuri had the name of this incredible person on his lips. He shaped the name with his mouth, _Viktor Nikiforov_. On the screen, Viktor spun, head tilted back and eyes closed, fearless. Yuuri could not take his eyes off him.

To say he fell in love at that moment in time would be a bit of an exaggeration, but he did fall into obsession, demanding videos of Viktor’s performances when he had never demanded anything from his handlers before. Yuuko was only happy to oblige his obsession and train with him, learning all of Viktor’s moves alongside him and only teasing him a little bit about his ‘crush.’

Well. Maybe it was a crush.

But Yuuri felt close to Viktor when he danced on the ice like Viktor did, when he replicated a spin or a jump or some tricky move after weeks and weeks of practice. The thought that he could stand on the same stage as Viktor was impossible—it was a pipe dream that for some reason Yamada-san and the others encouraged Yuuri to pursue. He became faster, stronger, and deadly, all while Viktor was on his mind.

He got to meet Viktor, once.

He was brought to Kyoto on business when he was fifteen. He dressed in a suit and was led into a dark room where he was ordered to stand tall and still, hands clasped behind him. They made him wait in silence without flinching for over an hour before a group of men in light-colored hair and black suits to match Yuuri’s walked into the room.

And then, towards the end of the group, silver hair. Yuuri’s eyes widened and he could feel himself waver from his position of absolute stillness in the presence of Viktor Nikiforov, his long hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing a suit so crisp Yuuri could cut himself on its edges. The only reason he kept himself from falling was because Yamada-san tapped his foot loud enough for Yuuri to hear—the most severe warning Yuuri would get before he was physically reprimanded.

He had held so still then, fighting the urge to tremble and unable to tear his eyes from Viktor. Viktor didn’t even cast a glance his way. He was so focused on Viktor that he almost missed the last man to walk into the room, sweating and wringing his hands, surrounded on either side by two equally sweaty but far more composed bodyguards. Yuuri remembers how the man reeked of fear.

Viktor’s men started talking, rapid-fire in a language Yuuri didn’t understand at first but then recognized as Russian. Something about a debt. Money. Dirty money. The sweating man replied, something soft and small and unsatisfactory, given the sharpness of the men’s voices in response. The sweating man cowered in front of them and Yuuri broke from his Viktor-induced coma to realize that this man was grossly outnumbered. He had two men to back up the five Russians and the four from Hasetsu.

Yuuri understood something before it happened—the people whose company he was in were gangsters. The Russians, the men from Hasetsu, possibly he himself. He didn’t even see the Russians pull out their guns, silencers attached to the end, and fire two shots into the chests of the bodyguards.

His first thought was, _they should’ve worn bulletproof vests if they knew they were meeting a bunch of mobsters._

His second thought wasn’t so much words as it was his body going still with shock as the men crumpled before him. Blood seeped into the carpet and their chests glittered wetly, like the sequins on a figure skating costume. One made a gurgling sound, but it was drowned out by the sweating man sinking to his knees and wailing, begging for his life and promising that he’d get the money. It was pathetic, a mess of snot and tears and desperation, the man spitting lines from cliché movies that he seemed to believe would move the hearts of the Russians.

One of the men stepped forward and drew a knife from his pocket, a glinting blade with a custom-designed handle. The man’s begging turned to incomprehensible sobs and Yuuri found he had his eyes on Viktor.

 _What do you think of this?_ Yuuri wanted ask. _You, who are above this violence and danger. You, who dance across ice because you were born to be there in the spotlight._

Yuuri finds nothing in Viktor’s expression besides an almost bored half-smile as his countryman slashes open the throat of the sweating man and blood splatters. Yuuri’s eyes are on Viktor when the splatter hits his chest and the tiniest speckle of blood lands below Viktor’s lip. Yuuri’s eyes are on Viktor when Viktor wipes the speck away with his thumb.

When he says, “Ah, how messy,” like one might chide the state of child’s dirty room.

It was at that moment that Yuuri realized Viktor was a gangster, too.

“You did well,” Yamada-san grunted later. “You pass your exam. But next time you flinch upon seeing Viktor I’ll beat you to an inch of your life, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Yuuri said, and knew it would be true. When he reunited with Yuuko the next night, he found her in a similar state of shock.

“Then we’re…yakuza?” Yuuko said, soft.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face into his knees. “I don’t want to be yakuza,” he said.

“Okay,” Yuuko said. “Then let’s not be.”

“How?” Yuuri asked. “We can’t run away. Yamada-san would find us. And then he’d kill us.”

Yuuko shook her head. “No. We’ll stay. But we won’t be yakuza. We’ll be spies, like in the movies. Spies are the good guys, aren’t they?”

“I guess,” Yuuri said.

“Besides,” Yuuko said. “It’s not like they’re asking us to kill people.”

Three months later, Yuuri drove a knife into the stomach of his first target, tears in his eyes.

 

\------------------------------

 

“ _I’m just saying, Minami-chan is the best sniper we’ve got. If this job is so important, why not assign the best of the best, you know what I’m saying?_ ”

“Your confidence in me is inspiring,” Yuuri says dryly. He pulls out each piece of his rifle and polishes it with a cloth, connecting the components as he cleans them. The half-complete gun lies across his lap and the only light is the moonlight and artificial light from the street lamps that peek in through the curtain of the window.

Phichit laughs from Yuuri’s earpiece. “ _Aw, you’ll do great, Yuuri-kun! Even if you’re not a one-hit-kill wonder—_ ”

“Not helping, Phichit-kun.”

“ _—you still get the job done. And hey, no one can compare to you in hand-to hand. If this wasn’t a distance hit I wouldn’t be able to say a thing_.”

Yuuri sighs. “Minami-chan hasn’t had a job outside the country yet. This one was too important to give to a green agent.”

“ _I thought you said it was almost too easy_ ,” Phichit says.

“Yes, but I don’t get distracted by touristy sights whenever I leave base,” Yuuri points out.

“ _Heh, true_ ,” Phichit says. “ _I just sympathize with her a lot. She looks up to you and she hasn’t had time to prove herself to you yet._ ”

“Her time will come,” Yuuri says. He clicks the last piece of the rifle into place and sets it up on the tripod. He pokes the tip through the small circle of glass he had cut out of the closed window, just below the edge of the curtain. Under the cover of night, no one would be able to tell the window apart from any of the others. “Yuu-chan,” Yuuri says. “Is the extraction point secure? This guy’s got a hell of a security force. He’s just a banker, isn’t he?”

“ _He’s smart_ ,” Yuuko says. “ _You wrong the wrong people, and you arm yourself to the teeth. It’s secure. As soon as you confirm the kill head out the back. There’s an ice truck idling and waiting for you_.”

“ _Oh, that reminds me!_ ” Phichit says. “ _I was bored one day and I decided to nose around in Minami-chan’s room—”_

“ _You **what**?_ ” Yuuko says.

 _“—And anyway, I found a picture of Yuuri-kun under her pillow! It’s so cute! I bet she kisses it every night before she goes to sleep_.”

“Phichit-kun,” Yuuri says. “She’s going to break your hand. Again.” He pauses. “Also, she’s only seventeen, isn’t she? I’m too old for her.”

“ _Ha! That’s rich coming from you, considering you have a thing for—_ ”

“ _I would appreciate it_ ,” Minako says, “ _if this channel was kept strictly business. We are in the middle of a covert mission, in case you’ve forgotten_.”

“ _Just trying to take the pressure off_ ,” Phichit says innocently. “ _Yuuri-kun gets nervous sometimes._ ”

“If Minami-chan doesn’t get you, I will,” Yuuri grumbles, but he knows Phichit is honestly trying to help him. Yuuri hadn’t been put on an international mission in months and despite the fact that Phichit had been teasing, Yuuri really wasn’t the best shot. Even using a tripod, he tended to go off of his mark when sniping and he needed to get a headshot since it was almost a guarantee that the target would be wearing a vest.

Also, they had radio silence from other intelligence rings, so it was very possible that other spies could be here, either to assassinate or protect the target. All in all, not Yuuri’s idea of an ideal mission setup. He preferred getting into the thick of things and fighting one-on-one, close up. He was no good when it came to long-range attacks.

He adjusts the scope on his rifle, aiming right for the entrance of the hotel where the valet would be pulling up any minute now. He wipes his hands on the baggy pants of his janitor disguise. A droplet of sweat slides down his temple. He checks the scope, then double checks. Honestly, Minami-chan probably should have been put on this job. Yuuri’s trading out with her for domestic jobs as soon as he gets back home.

Unless there was a job in Russia. Not that Yuuri would ever admit that out loud.

“ _Target’s on the move,_ ” Phichit relays. “ _Heading down from his room_.”

“The car’s here,” Yuuri reports, readjusting his scope. “I’m in position.”

“ _Oh man_ ,” Phichit says. “ _What I wouldn’t give for a ride in that sweet Rolls Royce—_ ”

“ ** _Phichit_** ,” Minako and Yuuko say in unison.

“ _Okay, okay! He’s in the elevator now. ETA two minutes and five seconds. Sheesh, you guys are no fun_.”

Yuuri tunes them all out. He registers Phichit’s reports distantly, but his eye is in the scope and he’s pointing the crosshairs at the exact place a six-foot-two man’s head would be before he ducked into the car. His finger trembles on the trigger.

“ _Okay, he’s in the lobby_ ,” Phichit says. “ _Get ready_.”

“ _You’re clear to take the shot at your discretion, Yuuri_ ,” Minako says.

Yuuri holds his breath as the banker emerges from the hotel. He can see the lines on the man’s face, the way he jokes with one of his companions. He takes one, two steps towards the car, pauses to speak to a woman. Leans down to kiss her hand. Then the chauffeur is opening the car door and Yuuri sees his chance, lines up the crosshairs and pulls the trigger—

The rifle jerks when he fires, but Yuuri still sees it through the lens. There’s a flash of black and silver, and then the people are screaming, scattering like rats back into the safety of the hotel. He takes in a breath. The banker is on the ground, a black-suited mass atop him. There’s no blood, but there is a hole in the car from a sniper rifle shell. Yuuri exhales.

And then sucks in another inhale, because he _knows_ those eyes, cold and blue, and he _knows_ that hair, bangs fluttering into the man’s eyes. He knows, and will always know Viktor Nikiforov when he sees him. His breathing goes erratic and his finger full on shakes over the trigger.

“ _Yuuri? Yuuri!_ ” Minako’s voice breaks through the ringing in Yuuri's ears. “ _Get out of there, the security force is coming!_ ”

“I can make the shot,” Yuuri says, voice cracking. “He’s on the ground. I can see him. I can still make it.”

“ _Get the hell out of there!_ ” Minako roars. “ _Everyone, take Beta measures; our security has been compromised!_ ”

“ _What are the **KGB** doing here?_ ” Phichit wails.

“I can still…” Yuuri says.

“ _Yuuri! You are to evacuate **immediately**!_ ” Minako says. “ _That’s an order!_ ”

Yuuri breaks from his trance. With shaking hands he throws the rifle and tripod into his bag and throws it over his shoulder. He takes the stairs three at a time and is in the back of the ice truck as the private security force arrives at the front of the building. His driver pulls into the street and drives at a steady pace, just a little over the speed limit.

Yuuri takes the earpiece out of his ear and throws it across the length of the truck. Then he slams his fist on the ground and swears. Curling into himself, he clutches his gear bag to his chest and tears up. He was an idiot. He missed the shot and allowed himself to get distracted because Viktor— _Viktor!_ —was there. Minako was going to chew him out, and then the higher-ups were going to chew him out and then he’d be put back in the remedial training _hell_ until he proved that he had his shit together. What was _wrong_ with him?

He was already on probation for nearly fucking up two other missions. This was his chance to prove himself not an imbecile but a capable agent who didn’t need to be replaced. Next to Minami’s sparkling record, Yuuri was a has-been, worn out after only five years of service in Hasetsu. He’d be lucky if they didn’t destroy him for messing up one too many times.

In the back of the truck, shivering and crying, Yuuri takes his time mourning the loss of his career.

 

\----------------------

 

“Vienna was that bad, huh?”

Yuuri flinches at Yuuko’s voice. He’s leaning against the outside of the rink, watching the rest of Hasetsu prepare for a competition he wasn’t invited to. Because of course, as soon as he screws up in spy work, his skating goes to shit as well.

Yuuko takes a place next to him, hands clasped behind her back. “What did the big bosses have to say?”

“Well, it _was_ the KGB, so they let me off easy,” Yuuri sighs. “Two months of remedial, three months of domestic work, and I’m off of all competitions until those eight months are up. They really wanted to take me off for a full year.”

“Could be worse,” Yuuko says.

“Could’ve been better,” Yuuri grumbles. “Could’ve shot him.”

Yuuko hesitates, and Yuuri knows what she’s going to ask before she even opens her mouth. “Was what the report said—”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “It was him. And yeah, I froze up because it was him.”

Yuuko squeezes his shoulder. “That’s the closest you’ve ever been to him on a job, huh? I don’t blame you for panicking. They weren’t even supposed to be there.”

Yuuri never told her about the first time he saw a man killed, and how Viktor had been there. Part of Yuuri didn’t even really believe that had happened, but Vienna confirmed it. Viktor, amazing, beautiful Viktor, was just as entangled in the life of espionage as Yuuri was. Maybe Yuuri had been thinking that time in Kyoto was a dream.

_Viktor had tracked the path of the bullet so quickly, though. He identified the general area where it had been fired from in an instant and directed the private security force towards the building Yuuri had been in. It was like he had been staring through Yuuri’s scope to make eye contact with him._

“…Yeah,” Yuuri says after a long moment. “I forgot he does what we do.”

“Shake it off,” Yuuko says. “Remedial is going to suck, but Minami-chan still idolizes you and Minako’s angry that our intel was so crap that we didn’t know the KGB would be there. Phichit actually blames himself for the whole thing, you know. It’s his job to secure our lines.”

“They’re going to flay the skin off my back,” Yuuri grumbles. “I haven’t been in remedial since I was seventeen.”

Yuuko claps him on the back. “Well, maybe you just need a touch up. They still believe in you as an agent, Yuuri. They wouldn’t put you through hell if they thought you were useless.”

 _Yeah, but death is probably better than remedial_ , Yuuri doesn’t say. He just bows his head and stretches, wishing he could be out on the ice with the rest of Hasetsu’s agents.

He’s walking home from Ice Castle five months later when his luck finally runs out. It’s getting cold again and Yuuri regrets not wearing his jacket when he left. He’d done good to survive the torture of remedial and he’s beat into shape, the strongest he’d been since seventeen. But now, going through basic jobs aside younger agents, he was realizing that maybe he wasn’t as great as the higher-ups believed him to be. The young ones had spark and a desire to please while Yuuri was driven by responsibility and routine.

“Ah, maybe I’m getting old,” Yuuri says aloud. How unfortunate, peaking at twenty-three. If he didn’t find some reason to improve and kick the green recruits into line, he was going to become useless to Hasetsu. His years of experience could only make up for so much, and with agents like Minami chomping at the bit to be put in the main force, he’d be outclassed quickly.

It’s not like he could just quit being a spy though—his instincts were honed to expect danger at every turn and respond to it in a heartbeat. Even as he’s walking down the street he takes stock of all the people around him: a couple with hands intertwined, a girl in a hoodie listening to music and leaning against the side of a building, a storeowner sweeping the front of his shop, a mother with her daughter pulling her in the direction of a bakery, begging for sweets. Everyone was assessed as a threat and either responded to or dismissed. Yuuri was built to be a weapon.

If he could pick up his skating then maybe Hasetsu would let him retire from spy work to just act as a figure skater. It had been done before. Of course, once he fell out of competitions he’d be disposed of, but it was a few more years of living with his friends and seeing the world. It could be worth it. But in the end, no matter how he twisted the dials on his skill levels, he was still racing the clock to when he falls from his prime and becomes useless to the intelligence ring. Spies didn’t exactly live to retirement age.

Yuuri lets out a long sigh and stuffs his hands into his pockets. Maybe it’s that he shook his head a little, or maybe just shifting his position made him more aware of his surroundings, but in that moment, Yuuri felt all his hair stand on end. Something was wrong.

He had a tail.

It was the girl from before, the one listening to music. Yuuri’s blood runs cold. She had been waiting for him.

He does what he’s supposed to do—nothing. The worst thing to do when being tailed was to show that you knew you were being tailed. He forces himself to relax even though his heart is pounding and he’s analyzing all possible ways out of this situation. Yuuri was approaching the edge of town; he had to do something before they were out of sight of people and she could make her move.

Yuuri identifies an alleyway ahead of him. There was a restaurant that always kept their side door unlocked down that alleyway; he knows, he used to hide from Yuuko and Phichit during drills all the time. He would make a run for it and duck inside. She was trailing far enough behind him that it was realistic that he could have made it down the alleyway and onto the street behind. At the very least, the trick would buy him a few minutes to head back to Ice Castle for reinforcements.

Yuuri takes a breath, and then he sprints for the alleyway. He hears a muffled curse behind him and he knows his tail will be on him in seconds. He tears around the corner and side-steps in through the door, closing it quietly. For good measure, he climbs up the stairs to the second floor and peeks around the edge of the window.

His tail bursts around the corner milliseconds later. She comes to a stop in the middle of the alleyway and for a second, Yuuri thinks his trick has failed. But then she swears again in Russian and throws back her hood—er, his hood. His tail is thin-boned and pretty like a girl, but the short blond hair and curl of his lip identify him as a very pissed-off young male agent. His eyes dart around the alleyway for a few seconds before he runs through and onto the next street.

Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief. He’s lucky the agent was young—a more experienced spy wouldn’t have fallen for that. The boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen, very early in his spy career, if Russia ran their agents as hard as Japan did. From what exchanges they’d had with the KGB, Yuuri would say they were pushed harder.

He gives the boy a full minute before he jogs down the stairs and opens the door. He needs to get to Ice Castle fast; the boy could have reinforcements of his own and Yuuri isn’t sure what their plan is for him. Given his current track record with Hasetsu, he’s not sure they’d be willing to risk agents to fetch him back if he’s kidnapped, and they definitely wouldn’t bargain for his life. Of course, if the boy was sent to kill him, it’s only a matter of getting to Ice Castle in mostly one piece. He’s about to turn the corner when he’s hit full force with a kick to the stomach.

Yuuri doubles over, seeing stars, but he doesn’t fall down. Instead he backs up, avoiding the two kicks that follow. He recovers enough to throw up his arms and block the punches that follow the kicks. Yuuri throws the lid of a trashcan at him and he bats it away easily. The kid is fast and _savage_ , not holding back in the least. But he’s made a mistake—no one’s better than Yuuri when it comes to hand-to-hand.

Once the shock wears off, Yuuri is forcing him back, blocking all his punches and throwing his own. The kid likes using his legs but that leaves him vulnerable when Yuuri keeps pushing close. He misreads a single feint and fails to block the punch that Yuuri throws, putting all his weight behind it. The kid’s face snaps to the side from the force of the blow and he stumbles back. For a moment they’re in limbo, Yuuri hesitant to strike out at an unknown opponent and the kid recovering from the hit.

He wipes the blood from his split lip and says in Russian, “Okay. You’re dead.”

He whips out a knife and comes at Yuuri. The knife is small and utilitarian, but it adds a layer of complexity to the block. The kid uses his blows to force Yuuri into the path of the knife. Yuuri’s good with knives, but he’s exhausted from practice and the Russian has a ferocity born of humiliation for the blow and some deep-seated animosity towards Yuuri that he can’t fathom.

He nicks Yuuri in the side once, twice, once across the face, socks him in the stomach again. It’s Yuuri’s turn to stumble back, but the kid doesn’t waste any time. He pulls a gun out from the back of his jeans and points the muzzle point blank at Yuuri’s forehead.

“Okay, okay, whoa, whoa,” Yuuri says in Russian. “I’m only defending myself. I don’t know what you want from me.”

The kid seems even angrier that Yuuri can speak Russian. “Did you really think that stupid trick would work on me? I might have pulled that when I was thirteen, but not twenty-three.”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting a tail in my hometown,” Yuuri says dryly. “Especially considering I haven’t been out in the field for real in five months. What is the KGB doing in Japan?”

The Russian throws his knife. It slices past Yuuri’s ear, leaving it bleeding. Yuuri doesn’t flinch. “I’m the one asking the questions,” he snarls.

“Alright, alright,” Yuuri says. “You’re asking the questions.”

“Vienna, five months ago,” the Russian says. “What the fuck was that all about?”

“I messed up my mission,” Yuuri says. “I was supposed to assassinate that dirty banker, the one you guys sent reinforcements in for. I missed my shot. That’s all.”

“How?” the Russian asks.

“What do you mean, how?” Yuuri asks.

The kid’s finger twitches on the trigger.

“I don’t know what you mean!” Yuuri exclaims. “I’ve been out of commission because of such a massive failure!”

“Why did you fail?” the kid asks. “You’re world-renowned as one of the best, how could you miss a shot like that? We had to put our best on that man so that we could keep him alive and go to the trouble of keeping it quiet because we knew it was going to be _you_. And then you miss the shot and flee?”

 _Your best_ , Yuuri thinks. _Viktor._

“I was ordered to leave,” Yuuri says. “But you already know that, don’t you? You tapped us.”

The kid shakes his head. “No. It was a perfect setup. It took us so long to find the place you shot from, you left no trace. It was a flawless job except you _missed_. Are you making fun of us?”

“Of who? The KGB?” Yuuri asks, voice strained. “Are you…are you _crazy_?”

“You’re not fit to rival him, or any of us,” the kid says. His grip on the gun steadies. “Or maybe you were supposed to miss.”

Yuuri blinks.

“It sure would be convenient for Hasetsu if the world’s top agent and the pride of the KGB happened to bite it,” he says calmly. “But that’s probably just a ‘mistake’ too, isn’t it?”

 _I’m going to die here,_ Yuuri thinks.

“We had no idea you were even going to be there,” Yuuri says weakly. “We had…no intel…”

_He’s already made up his mind that I’m guilty._

“So you just happened to force us into a corner and then make a mistake, is what you’re saying,” the kid says. He takes a breath. “I don’t believe you.”

Yuuri closes his eyes. _I’m sorry Yuuko. Phichit. Minami. Minako._

A phone rings. Yuuri opens his eyes. It isn’t his ringtone. He meets the eyes of the Russian. The Russian doesn’t move, just lets the phone call end. He pauses a minute, then readjusts his aim.

The phone rings again.

“Oh for god’s sake—” He picks up the phone and spits into the receiver, “ _What_. I’m _busy._ ”

His eyes don’t drift from Yuuri but his expression and body language change. _Respect_. He’s talking to a handler or a senior agent.

“You’re _where_?” he says. “ _Why?_ ” And then, a second later. “You better not be following me.”

His face twists into a snarl. “Yakov can shove it. I’m doing business. _Yes,_ in Japan.”

Yuuri must flinch or move or something, because the Russian waves his gun at him. “Don’t you fucking think about moving or I’ll blow your brains out.”

“You’re already planning to,” Yuuri mutters to himself.

The Russian snorts into the phone. “Yeah, he wasn’t exactly hard to corner.” Then he frowns. “But you said—” And then, nearly a shout, “I’m doing this for you!”

“No,” he says, throwing his phone to the ground and smashing it. “No, I don’t give a fuck, you said it was a setup and I’m going to take care of it, regardless of—”

“Regardless of whether or not I’m here?” Viktor says from somewhere behind Yuuri.

Yuuri stiffens with shock. The kid is also shocked, enough to lower the gun and widen his eyes. “Viktor?” he says softly.

Yuuri’s not _that_ surprised.

He rushes the kid, disarming him quickly and knocking his feet from under him. He gets his arm pinned back and a knee to the middle of the kid’s back, putting his full weight on him and the kid is helpless. He squirms and curses, snarling at being outmatched.

“Please don’t break him,” Viktor says. “He’s expensive.”

“He also tried to kill me,” Yuuri says.

“Yes,” Viktor says. “He does that sometimes.”

He says it affectionately, like one might talk about an annoying habit of their pet that was secretly endearing. This is…not how Yuuri imagined his first conversation with Viktor going. The kid squirms some more, so Yuuri picks up the gun and points it at the back of his skull. At least he has the good sense to go still.

“Oh dear,” Viktor says. “I do hope that isn’t necessary. I came to pick him up.”

“Give me one reason not to rid myself of an enemy,” Yuuri says.

Viktor smiles. “He’s not really your enemy, though. He’s just protective.”

“Of?” Yuuri asks.

“Me,” Viktor says.

“Do you really think that Hasetsu set you up?” Yuuri asks.

“It was a possibility, yes,” Viktor says. “An idea I put into Yuri’s head and let him act on, so that I could find out the truth.”

Yuuri’s head swims at the sound of his name on Viktor’s lips. Of course, it’s not him. Viktor can only mean the kid under Yuuri’s knee. A second Yuri?

“And if he had killed me?” Yuuri asks. “Hasetsu would not take an unprovoked attack lightly.” Hasetsu would also not pick a fight with the KGB over a poorly performing agent, but Yuuri doesn’t say that.

“It’s a good thing I have impeccable timing,” Viktor says, still smiling.

Yuuri lets those words hang in the air for a moment before he lets Yuri up, shoving him forward with the press of the gun’s muzzle to his back. Yuri stumbles towards Viktor, ignoring Viktor’s open arms to sulk against the wall of the alley.

“Next time, I’m really going to kill you,” Yuri says, voice wavering. Yuuri is alarmed to see tears in his eyes.

“Don’t mind him,” Viktor says. “He’s got another two years of training before he’s let out onto the international playing field. He hasn’t had a gun pointed at his head before.”

Yuuri gawks. “How old are you?”

“None of your business,” Yuri sniffs.

“Fifteen,” Viktor says.

“Viktor!” Yuri cries.

“ _Fifteen?_ ” Yuuri chokes. He was younger than Minami! And to think he was out in the field, hunting down a rival agent for the sake of his mentor…

“I should’ve shot you,” Yuuri says, amazed. “You’re going to be an incredible agent.”

Yuri doesn’t know what to make of that. He looks pleased, but also angry that he’s pleased.

“Speaking of guns,” Viktor says. “Mind if we have that one back?”

Yuuri laughs. He points the gun at the center of Viktor’s chest. “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

Viktor’s eyes flash. “Ho,” he says. “There’s his spine.”

“I’m not interested in starting a war with the KGB,” Yuuri says. “But I’m also interested in saving my skin.” He shrugs one shoulder and offers Viktor a half-smile that cuts. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to forgive me.”

“I’m sure I will,” Viktor purrs. “Oh my. You’re _far_ more interesting than I expected. Yuri, darling, good job tracking him down.” He pats Yuri on the head and Yuri flinches.

“Oh, so _now_ I do a good job?” he hisses.

Viktor pulls his coat tighter around himself. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Katsuki Yuuri. Very soon.”

As he watches them leave, Yuuri doesn’t even think to ask why Viktor knows his name.

 

\----------------------

 

“Hey, Viktor,” Yuri says when they’re seated in the jet. “You better not still be thinking about that craps shot operative.”

“Huh? Oh no, of course not,” Viktor says, leaning his chin against his wrist and staring out the window.

Yuri bristles. “You’re lying to me! I can tell you’re lying to me! You’re still thinking about him!”

Viktor laughs. “Alright, alright, caught. I can’t help it, Yuri. I like new toys, and that one was so nice…”

“He’s an idiot and a moron,” Yuri mumbles, sinking into his seat. “Don’t know what you see in him.”

“An idiot and a moron are the same thing, Yuri.”

“Whatever!” Yuri says, throwing his hands up. “He’s a worn-out, shit spy who’ll probably be terminated by the agency if they know what’s good for them. Don’t waste your time thinking about him.”

“But the way he _laughed_ at me,” Viktor says. “Have you ever seen a more beautiful man in your life? I would have happily taken that bullet.”

“Eugh,” Yuri says. “Fine, play with him, have your fun, but when you get tired of him, remember that _I’m_ the one you’re supposed to be training, Viktor.”

“Yes, yes,” Viktor says. “I know how the game is played. You’ll get your training.” He runs his thumb over his lips. “I just want to sink my teeth into him, just once…”

Yuri makes another noise of disgust and pulls his headphones over his ears as the jet starts to take off.

 

\----------------------

 

Of course, when Viktor had said “very soon,” Yuuri hadn’t known he meant _this_ soon.

“Yuuri-chan!” Viktor calls, holding his arms out. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“ _Viktor_?” Yuuri squeaks. What the hell is Viktor Nikiforov doing here?

He’s getting a pair of skates from Yuuko when Viktor saunters into the lobby like it wasn’t an impossibility of nature, a violation of all the laws of time and space. To simply walk into the headquarters of a rival intelligence ring like a tourist was…unthinkable.

Minami makes a gurgling sound at Yuuri’s side. Phichit, on Yuuri’s other side, drops his skates.

“Ah, so this is the Ice Castle?” Viktor says. “You have to show me around, Yuuri!”

How unfortunate that Yuuri’s soul was going to escape his body before that was possible.

“You two sure are familiar,” Phichit says to Viktor, but his eyes burning holes into Yuuri. Minami and Yuuko’s eyes also bore into him, but they’re rendered speechless.

Viktor tilts his head to the side but doesn’t offer an explanation.

“Um! That is!” Yuuri stutters. “We kind of…ran into each other?”

“He doesn’t look it like this, but he’s quite attractive when he’s pointing a gun at your chest,” Viktor adds.

“ _When the fuck_ —” Phichit says at the same time that Yuuko says, “You pointed a _gun_ at him?” at the same time Minami says, “Please don’t steal Yuuri-kun away from us!”

“Ha ha,” Viktor laughs, as if he hadn’t caused a massive uproar just by breathing. He waves his hands. “I’m not actually here for Yuuri this time. I believe you were expecting me?”

“I was,” Minako says, emerging from behind the staff door. “Welcome to Japan, Viktor-san. I trust your flight was pleasant?”

“ _Minako-sensei!_ ” The four agents hiss at their director.

“What?” she says. “I knew you’d just work yourself into a frenzy if I told you he was coming. This is the most efficient way to prepare for Viktor’s arrival.”

“It’s a long one from Moscow, thank you for asking,” Viktor says. “But I’m excited to be here.”

Minako gestures at Viktor. “He’s here on behalf of his…associates…in Russia, to improve relations between our skaters,” which was her way of saying _we’re trying to get the KGB on our side, so play nice_.

Viktor bows. “Thank you for having me.”

“I’d love to show you around, but unfortunately I have to run to dance class,” Minako says. “I’m sure one of my senior athletes wouldn’t mind giving you the grand tour.”

Phichit, Minami, and Yuuko take a step away from Yuuri in unison. Yuuri takes a moment to glare down each of them before bowing his head. “Well, I guess the vote is unanimous,” he says weakly.

“Excellent,” Minako says. “He can show you to the hot springs where you’ll be staying the weekend.”

“He _what_ ,” Yuuri croaks.

“C’mon, Yuuri,” Viktor chirps, draping an arm over his shoulder and dragging him in the direction of the rink. “Show me around!”

It’s only a little bit of a disaster. Yuuri, Yuuko, and Phichit are the only senior operatives at Ice Castle currently, but there are a handful of very bristly handlers under Yamada-san who make it very obvious what they think of partnering with the KGB. They shoot glares through both Viktor and Yuuri that make Yuuri beyond relieved that he’s done with remedial. The kids were going to suffer.

That being said, Viktor is a star at Hasetsu. The fledglings, too young to understand that they’d been drafted into a spy ring, saw Viktor as the pinnacle of figure skating achievement and a god. They fall over themselves to get his autograph and beg him to put on skates and show them some quads, tugging at his jeans and at the hem of his jacket. Viktor fields them with easy smiles and laughs and a head ruffle or two.

The young agents are just as big fans, albeit in a more controlled way. Yuuri, who has become familiar with the movements of their bodies, can tell they’re pushing themselves hard to appear impressive on the ice. They sneak peeks at Viktor when they think he’s not looking, and once one of them breaks and asks for his autograph, all of them do. There’s an element of fear and respect in the way they approach him though—they understand that he could disembowel them with the same ease with which he smiles. He’s a hero to them in both aspects of his career.

And Yuuri suffers through the fawning over Viktor with as little disgruntlement as he can. It’s just horrible to see the kids fawning over Viktor, though. Yuuri can see a mirror of himself in their smiles and desire for contact to prove that yes, Viktor was real. He knows who he would be in their place—he’d be the one pushing to the front, stars in his eyes. It’s an unpleasant reality to face.

“Jealous that they’re stealing my attention?” Viktor asks once they’re free of the crowd and Yuuri’s showing him around the locker room.

“More concerned about what your purpose is here,” Yuuri says. “Does Russia really intend to ally itself with Japan?”

“Ah, who’s to say?” Viktor says, lying across a bench. There’s a flash of skin from beneath his jacket and it takes all of Yuuri’s willpower not to peek. “My higher-ups are so finicky.”

“We’re friends with the CIA,” Yuuri says dryly.

“Then you’ve answered your own question,” Viktor says.

“So what? You’re here to scout out our facilities? Sorry to say, but this isn’t as fancy as Moscow, I’m sure.”

“Is that all you think I do? Spy?” Viktor says, smiling.

“You manipulated a green agent into doing your dirty work and interrogating me,” Yuuri points out.

Viktor pouts. “That’s on Yuri. I told him it was just a theory and not to pursue it, but he never listens to me.” He sits up. “Besides, isn’t it better this way? Now there are no secrets between us. We can finally trust each other.”

Yuuri exhales. “You’re on a different playing field than those of us here. You’re a god to them. I don’t think it’s possible to trust someone that high above you.”

“And am I a god to you?” Viktor asks.

“That’s…” Yuuri says.

Viktor sits up and faces Yuuri. His bangs hang in his face but it only takes one blue eye to pierce Yuuri through the heart. “Let me tell you something, Yuuri,” he says, holding a hand out.

Uncertainly, Yuuri takes it.

Viktor brushes the pad of his thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles. “Do you feel that?” he asks.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, eyes darting from Viktor to his hand.

Viktor squeezes his hand. “And that?”

“Y-yeah.”

And then he threads their fingers together, pressing their palms until they touch and holding Yuuri’s hand in the most intimate way possible. “And this?”

“Viktor…” Yuuri says. His voice sounds breathy and weak.

“Just answer the question,” Viktor says.

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “I can feel you.”

Viktor stands up. “That’s right,” he says, voice low. “I’m not a god. I’m a human like you.”

He takes Yuuri’s free hand and presses it to his chest. “I have a heartbeat,” he says. “I can die like you can. I’m not invincible.”

And then he tilts his head forward and reaches to brush his thumb over Yuuri’s bottom lip. “I’m a human like you,” he says. “I have desires of my own.”

“You didn’t come here for me,” Yuuri says softly. “I can’t believe that.”

“Maybe you should,” Viktor says.

“Yuuri!” Yuuko calls. “We’re closing up! I better not find you making out with Viktor in a closet!”

Yuuri stumbles away from Viktor, face burning. The trance broken, Yuuri notices his heart is pounding. _What the hell was that all about?_

Viktor tuts. “She’s perceptive.”

“ _Please don’t imply that Yuuko-chan’s statement had any validity_ ,” Yuuri begs.

“Well, in any case, we can be alone soon,” Viktor says. “I’m going home with you, remember?”

Yuuri had been trying very hard to forget, actually. Forget the fact that he was going to be in close quarters with an incredibly dangerous rival spy, and try not to imagine what kind of situations he was going to get himself into. Eating dinner with Viktor, sleeping across the hall from Viktor, _bathing with Viktor_ —

“Oh!” Viktor says. “We should share a bed, Yuuri-chan!”

Yuuri doesn’t sleep a wink the whole weekend.

He expects things to get better once Viktor leaves. Of course, there’s the expected brutal interrogation from his rinkmates: Yuuko literally beats the answers out of him during combat practice, Phichit stares at Yuuri during skating practice until he messes up enough elements that he has to chase Phichit out by answering his question, and Minami turns on the waterworks. But something Yuuri had underestimated was Viktor’s desire to get in his space and under his skin.

He’s put back on the active roster two months later and proceeds to see him all over the world. Viktor blows him a kiss at an ice-skating invitational competition in Chicago. In Beijing, they do interviews together. And when Hasetsu teams up with the KGB in an information-gathering mission to North Korea, of course Viktor accompanies the other agents as the senior operative for the mission.

“So,” Phichit says from in front of the computer he’s ripping classified information from. “Viktor’s stalking you, huh?”

“Now is _really_ not the time,” Yuuri hisses from his lookout position.

“I mean, we all knew you were obsessed with him, but to think that the obsession is returned? You’re living the dream, Yuuri.” He clicks the mouse rapidly and snorts. “Oh, you call that encryption? Please.”

“He’s not obsessed with me,” Yuuri argues. “I’m nothing.”

“Dude,” Phichit says. “You’re actually incredibly impressive, you know? You represented Japan at Nationals in figure skating and you’re also the top agent in Hasetsu, even given your crappy record recently. Not many people can say that.”

“Don’t flatter me, Phichit-kun,” Yuuri says. “It’ll go to my head.”

“Nah,” Phichit says. “You’re humble on top of all that. I’m not surprised he was charmed by you.”

“Charmed, huh…” Yuuri says. He’s not sure he would call that confident touch _charmed_ , but it certainly was something.

“Got it!” Phichit says, pumping a fist in the air. “We’re good to go.”

“Good,” Yuuri says, “because those are a lot of big trucks full of big men with big guns that just pulled up to this building.”

“Oh god, really?” Phichit asks. “Dammit, we’re going to have to make some kind of dangerous escape, aren’t we?”

Yuuri grins. “You know it.”

Phichit groans. “You know, I chose to be a tech for a reason: I hate field work.”

“It’ll be fun, trust me,” Yuuri says.

“I don’t believe you,” Phichit grumbles, but follows his lead anyway.

They only get shot at a little bit.

 

\----------------------------

 

“Say, Yuri…do you like Mila?” Viktor asks.

“The red-haired old hag?” Yuri says. “Hate her. Why?”

“Oh, come on!” Viktor laughs. “She’s quite the beauty, and so strong, too. The two of you would make a lovely pair.”

“Viktor,” Yuri growls, “why are you asking me stupid questions?”

“Oh, no reason.”

“Viktor.” A louder growl.

Viktor huffs. “Fine. I’m looking at my next mission report and I’m thinking of bringing you along.”

Yuri sits bolt upright from where he had been splayed across a couch. “The fuck? Of course you’re taking me!”

“Ah, but you need a date,” Viktor says. “It’s a very fancy party. And Natasha has already agreed to go with me.”

Yuri looks down. Looks to his left. Looks to his right. Squints at Viktor, winces. “Does it _have_ to be Mila?”

Viktor only smiles.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Yuuri’s eye twitches. As with all things involving Viktor, this, too, was unexpected.

He’s in a tux on the roof of a premier hotel in Monte Carlo, in the middle of a party where the poorest guest was a multi-millionaire. All around him the men are dressed in black and white and the women move through the crowd in dresses that could kill just by looking at them and everyone has a cocktail in hand. There’s an infinity pool overlooking the edge of the hotel occupied by couples twined tightly together. The air is cool but not too chilly for a party and the sun has just set. It’s the stage for romance and deals done under the table between the most powerful men and women on earth.

And where is Viktor? Attached at the hip to an absolutely stunning woman in an open-backed black dress. He hasn’t even spared the slightest of glances for Yuuri.

 _Charmed by me, my ass,_ Yuuri thinks.

Yuuko slips her arm through Yuuri’s. She sips at her martini. “If you spent as much time as you have staring at Viktor focusing on the mission, we’d be leaving the party early,” she says after a moment.

Yuuri looks at her. She’s dressed in red and her lips are the exact shade of her dress in the light. Rubies dangle from her ears. She’s as much of a catch as Viktor’s partner, but Yuuri doesn’t feel any better.

“Takeshi-kun is a lucky man,” he mutters.

Yuuko smacks him lightly on the arm. “He needed a date to come here tonight, you know that. Quit sulking. Honestly, men in love are so difficult.”

“Love is fake, actually,” Yuuri says.

“ _Wow, I actually wish I was there right now_ ,” Phichit says through their earpieces. “ _I’m missing a prime specimen of sulking-Yuuri._ ”

“It’s not too late, Phichit-kun,” Yuuri says. “You can still switch with me.”

“ _No way_ ,” Phichit laughs. “ _After North Korea? I made sure our higher-ups will keep me out of the field from now on._ ”

Yeah, yeah, Yuuri knows it’s no good to ask Phichit to take his place.

_Katsuki-san, for this next assignment, we need a skilled operative to spearhead the mission._

“I would offer to take your place, but you know,” Yuuko sighs.

_He must be a man._

“ _I said I’d do it_ ,” Minami mutters over their channel. “ _I’m male-passing_.”

“You look thirteen, Minami-chan,” Yuuri says.

_He must be experienced, a senior in the field._

“I can’t believe Viktor’s going to witness this colossal failure,” Yuuri groans.

_Your target is a well-known Italian politician. He will be in Monte Carlo in five weeks time, at a party. We have obtained an invitation for you and Nishigori-san as your date, and Minami-san as backup. Your job is to obtain information on the corruption of the upcoming election…_

_…And seduce him._

“Why me?” Yuuri laments. “I have, like, zero sex appeal. And I’m up against _that_.”

Honestly, he could be referring to any of them. The KGB had put their best foot forward for this party, sending in four of their best to rival the three of Hasetsu’s best. Of course, there was Viktor, all charm and hard edges, drawing in both the ladies and the men whenever he laughed or spoke into their ears. Not to be outdone by him was the other number one agent on his arm, Natasha Romanoff. Yuuri could hardly look at her, let alone make eye contact with her, let alone _out-seduce_ her.

And then, to Yuuri’s unending delight, Russian Yuri was making an appearance as well. He looked every bit the protégé Viktor had raised him to be, the hard, unsmiling line of his mouth in contrast with his boyish features making him even more desirable. He’d been hit on already tonight and Yuuri felt suitably creeped out for the kid. On his arm, another beautiful redhead towered over him. She had an easy laugh like Viktor and strength in her deceptively thin limbs. Yuuri immediately identified her as Mila Babicheva, another up-and-coming KGB superspy.

So basically, they were fucked.

“Have we identified Angelo yet?” Yuuri asks Yuuko, surreptitiously scanning the crowd.

“Not yet,” she says. “Why don’t you go ask Viktor? I’m sure he knows.”

Yuuri looks at her. She keeps a straight face. “You’re…you’re not joking,” Yuuri says.

“I mean, if all you’re going to do is stare at him,” Yuuko says innocently.

Okay, _ouch_.

“Go ahead,” Yuuko says, patting his arm. “I’ll distract the little one.”

And then Yuuri has no choice but to approach Viktor, wading through the party guests to reach the bar overlooking the ocean where Viktor and Natasha are chatting up a group of Italian businessmen. It’s a good in. Yuuri himself doesn’t have one, although he supposes he’ll just use his softer side to endear himself to Angelo. Men like him tended to be fairly dominant, anyway.

He orders a whiskey from the bartender. His voice carries enough that he catches the way Viktor’s head tilts towards him, just a little, although he doesn’t break from conversation with the Italians and laughs at their joke at the right time.

Yuuri doesn’t have to wait long. The businessmen are doing the rounds and their dates want to dance with them. They’re pulled from conversation with Viktor and Natasha, but not before they exchange kisses and a few parting laughs.

When the men leave, it’s just the three of them left in the corner of the bar. Natasha’s eyes flick between Yuuri and Viktor. She smiles, foxlike, and stands up. “You gentlemen enjoy yourselves,” she says. She squeezes Viktor’s shoulder and he turns to her. Cupping her cheek they share a long, deep kiss that nevertheless does not leave a single smear of Natasha’s lipstick out of place. She follows the businessmen into the fray.

“I love women that know how to kiss,” Viktor says to Yuuri as soon as they are alone.

“How fortunate that you have such a woman to accompany you tonight, then,” Yuuri says.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor says. “Your jealousy is showing.”

“Is it?” Yuuri says. “Perhaps I should find another man to console me, then. Preferably a man by the name of Angelo Bianchi. Would you happen to know him?”

Viktor laughs, delighted. “You never fail to surprise me. I like the jealous side of you, Yuuri.”

“Don’t be mistaken,” Yuuri says. “I only have eyes for that man tonight. You just happen to be in the way.”

“Don’t _you_ be mistaken,” Viktor says. “Natasha doesn’t want me. She’s into birds.”

He sips on his own gin and tonic. “You don’t suppose this Angelo Bianchi will be off-put by bisexuals, do you?”

“Oh, excellent,” Yuuri says. “I do appreciate it when my intel is correct.”

“So it is,” Viktor says. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, though. What is Hasetsu doing sticking their nose into other people’s problems?”

“What’s a world-famous figure skater doing at a business party in Monaco?” Yuuri retorts.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Viktor says, smiling.

“Hm,” Yuuri replies. “The CIA called in a favor.”

“We’re the reason they had to,” Viktor says. “Who’s with you?”

“Minami-chan has found herself a couple of young men to dote on her and buy her jello shots until she’s drunk enough to make a move on. Don’t think it’ll work out in their favor. Phichit-kun is doing his damnedest to scramble your coms so I hope you know your mission by heart. And I believe Yuuko-chan went to torment Yuri. Thanks for bringing him along, by the way.”

“He’s going to lose it when he realizes you’re here,” Viktor agrees.

“He hasn’t noticed me?” Yuuri asks, surprised.

“Doesn’t recognize you with your bangs gelled back,” Viktor says. “You’re a whole new level of gorgeous when you’re done up nice.”

Yuuri’s heart stops. “So we’re agreed, then,” he says, recovering.

“On what?” Viktor asks.

“Our rivalry,” Yuuri says.

Viktor laughs low. “Yuuri-chan,” he says, “is it really a rivalry if the gap between skills is unbreachable?”

Yuuri flinches, hurt. “Men like him aren’t into men like you,” Yuuri says. “He’ll be looking for someone weaker to sink his teeth into.”

“Oh, dearest,” Viktor says. “ _Everyone_ is into me. Just watch.” He knocks back his drink and stands up, heading back into the party. Yuuri chugs his, hurrying to catch up with Viktor, but he’s stopped by the appearance of Yuri, red-faced and furious. Behind him, Yuuko makes her best ‘sorry, I tried’ face.

“ _You_ ,” Yuri spits. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I do not have time for this,” Yuuri says.

“Sir, you have to pay for that,” the bartender says. Yuuri spins around to demand to know why he didn’t ask Viktor for _his_ payment, but of course Viktor’s  friends would have bought their new acquaintance a drink.

“I’m sure Viktor won’t mind paying for a dear friend’s first drink of the night,” Yuuri says. The bartender grunts, but puts the drink on Viktor’s tab.

“Don’t ignore me,” Yuri hisses, reaching into his suit for…what? A knife? A gun? A rocket launcher?

“Are you really going to pull something on me in the middle of a covert mission,” Yuuri deadpans.

Yuri hesitates. Puts back whatever he was about to pull out. Instead, he presses a finger into the center of Yuuri’s chest and curls his lip. “If you even _think_ about interfering in our mission—”

“Actually, Viktor’s interfering with _my_ mission, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“What? Your mission to seduce Angelo?” Yuri barks out a laugh. “You can’t even stand in the same ring as Viktor when it comes to seduction.”

Yuuri goes still. Yuri takes that as defeat and grins.

 _He’s underestimating me_ , Yuuri realizes. _He and Viktor are both massively underestimating me because I’ve never had to perform this kind of covert work before._

Yuuri laughs through his nose and smiles at Yuri. He drags a hand back through his hair. “You’re right,” he says. “I don’t stand a chance against Viktor. But I’ve got an angle Viktor doesn’t know how to play.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Yuri asks.

“While Viktor’s seducing Angelo, I’ll be seducing Viktor, of course,” Yuuri says. “Bet he won’t see that one coming.”

Yuri’s eyes go wide. Yuuri dares to reach out and ruffle his hair before walking into the party, head held high.

Viktor is easy to spot. His silvery hair stands out from a mile away. He’s got a man who must be Angelo cornered and he’s leaning into him, giving off subtle hints of attraction. It’s probably too straightforward, but Angelo’s leaning into him a little, too, eyes flicking down to watch the movement of his lips. But he’s not hooked just yet.

“Viktor!” Yuuri calls, loud. He draws the attention of several guests, but not Viktor. “Viktor!” he calls out again. this time, Viktor turns, quirking an eyebrow.

Yuuri rushes to join them. “You left me alone at the bar,” he says, allowing a small edge of keening to his voice. “You know I don’t do well at big parties like this.” He lets his hand rest on Victor’s arm for a brief moment. Viktor tracks the movement.

 _Good_ , Yuuri thinks. _He’s falling for it._

“Oh? Who’s your new friend?” Yuuri asks, as if noticing Angelo for the first time. “He’s not a businessman like those other men is he? You know I can’t stand them.”

“Angelo Bianchi,” Angelo introduces himself. “And no, I’m a politician.” He offers a hand. Yuuri takes it and Angelo kisses his hand.

“Oh, so a different kind of bloodsucker,” Yuuri says. “Thank god.” He lets his smile reach his dimples and Angelo laughs, charmed.

Viktor watches the exchange, amused at Yuuri’s attempt to insert himself into the conversation. “Yes, well, Yuuri is another one of my athlete companions, from Japan.”

“You do have quite a few of those,” Angelo says. “Wait…Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri says, blushing and bowing his head.

“I watched your performance at Nationals,” Angelo says. “I’m sorry you had such a bad run.”

“I let my nerves get the best of me,” Yuuri admits. “You see…” His eyes flicker to Viktor. “Viktor’s kind of my idol,” he says, laughing. “After watching his performance, I guess I just…wanted to stand out, and worried myself too much.”

“You never told me that,” Viktor murmurs, playing right into Yuuri’s hands.

“I’ve said too much already,” Yuuri says, ducking his head. “I’m sure I’ve become pathetic in your eyes.”

“No, Yuuri, never,” Viktor assures him. “Never.”

It’s all an act, on both their parts, but the heat in Yuuri’s cheeks isn’t that fake. Even Viktor’s faux concern warms him from the inside out. He’s able to peek shyly up at Viktor and look at him with true admiration and adoration.

Angelo whistles. “The bond between athletes is pretty incredible, huh.”

Viktor blinks, as if coming back into himself. “Well,” he says, “we spend most of our lives on the ice. Only certain people can understand what that much devotion feels like. It’s only natural there’d be something special between us.”

“Then I’m privileged to see it,” Angelo says. “Of course, I can never say it in public, but…personally, I’ll always be supporting this kind of relationship.”

Yuuri feels the moment Viktor realizes what he’s done. It’s a half-flinch, just the slightest withdrawal from Angelo that is only detectable by Yuuri because he’s so in-tune with other’s movements. Viktor’s smile never falters, but his eyes get harder. “I appreciate it,” he says. To Yuuri, he says, “Is that Yuuko getting herself into trouble by the bar?”

It’s a dismissal if Yuuri’s ever heard one. But he’s not going to play along this time. Luck is with him, because the music changes to something deeper with a beat and the lights go low. The dancefloor clears of slow dancers and the real dancing begins.

Yuuri smiles so, so sweetly at Angelo. “Oh, she can take care of herself. Angelo, please, you really must see Viktor dance. He’s splendid; don’t let him worm his way out of it.”

Angelo laughs. “A dance between you two? To this song? That’s something I just _must_ see.”

Yuuri can feel Viktor’s killing intent as he pulls him into the mix of couples on the dancefloor, making sure they’re within visual range of Angelo and he loops his arms around Viktor’s neck. Viktor’s eyes are ice, but the hands that fall to Yuuri’s hips as he begins to sway burn holes through his suit. Yuuri lets the music pour over him and travel through his body, guiding the movement of his hips and feet.

“What are you playing at?” Viktor asks, direct and to the point.

“Playing at what?” Yuuri says, dragging a hand through his hair again. He feels Viktor’s fingers tighten on his body. _Not as unaffected as you’d like to believe_.

“Do you think this will work?” Viktor asks, leaning in so that his lips brush the shell of Yuuri’s ear. “Do you really think you can steal him from me?” Yuuri lets him feel the shiver that runs down his spine.

“No, I don’t,” Yuuri says, twining his fingers in the hair at the base of Viktor’s neck. “But I do think I can steal you from him.”

Viktor falls out of step with the music for a moment, then recovers. He laughs into Yuuri’s ear. “Oh? Was that your spectacular plan? I’m sorry Yuuri-chan, but I’m a bit more professional than that.”

He runs his hands up and down Yuuri’s sides as the music picks up. “I’m going to wreck you,” he says softly. “I’m going to leave you hard and aching for me, and then, as soon as this song ends, I’m going to strand you on this dancefloor.”

Yuuri wrenches himself from Viktor’s grasp so that he can flip around, grinding back against him. He grabs a fistful of Viktor’s hair and pulls Viktor’s ear to his mouth. “Speak for yourself, _dearest_.”

Viktor growls a very unfriendly growl and slots his hands on the shape of Yuuri’s hips, pulling him back against him so they can grind against each other like teenagers, sweating and helpless to the pound of the music. Yuuri feels Viktor’s breath against his ear before Viktor fastens his teeth to Yuuri’s earlobe. Yuuri arches against him and gasps.

“Oh dear,” Viktor purrs. “Now both of our bodies are telling the truth.”

“You wouldn’t feel me up at this kind of— _haa_ ,” Yuuri breaks off when Viktor does just that, palming him in front of everyone at the party. Yuuri’s cheeks burn even hotter and for the first time since he conceived of the plan, he wonders if this was a bad idea.

“You’re putty in my hands,” Viktor says. “You want me so badly.”

“And I suppose those looks meant nothing,” Yuuri pants. “Face it; you’re just as compromised as I am.”

“I don’t think so,” Viktor says.

Yuuri leans back and moans into his ear, not loud, but high-pitched and desperate. Viktor’s hands, back on his hips, squeezes so tightly he would have left marks on bare skin.

“You’re a human, too, isn’t that what you told me?” Yuuri says innocently.

“You move like you’re making music with your body,” Viktor says. “I must have you.”

The song ends, but Viktor is not done with him. Yuuri pulls away from him, backing off the dancefloor, but Viktor tracks him even in darkness, closing the distance between them in two steps. He grabs Yuuri by the chin and seals their mouths together.

Yuuri forgets…pretty much anything. The mission, Angelo, his associates, the KGB, the earpieces they’re both wearing that mean both of their techs have heard every word they’ve exchanged over the night. All he knows is the feeling of Viktor’s hands rough on his face and Viktor’s tongue hot in his mouth. Yuuri presses himself as close to Viktor as humanly possible, far closer than was decent, and let himself fall.

“Get these two men a room,” Angelo calls, delighted. Two servers lead the way and Angelo personally guides them down the hall while they can hardly keep their hands off of each other.

“That was…spectacular,” Angelo says to Yuuri. “The greatest performance of the night. You truly did not disappoint. I will ensure you two have as much privacy as you need.”

And closes the door on them.

For a moment, Yuuri and Viktor stare at the closed door. Then they stare at each other. Both of their plans have gone to shit. The question now is: what to do about it.

“As soon as I fuck you,” Viktor says slowly, “I am going back out there and beating the information out of Angelo.”

“As soon as _I_ fuck _you_ ,” Yuuri says, “I am going back out there and sweet talking the information out of Angelo.”

It’s a race to undress the other: Yuuri’s hands get tangled up in Viktor’s tie; Viktor has to yank Yuuri’s jacket off of him. They both fumble with their own buttons and then they’re shirtless and Viktor touches Yuuri first and wins. Yuuri’s skin flinches under his touch, but he’s not afraid—just inexperienced.

“You’ve never been touched like this before,” Viktor murmurs. Yuuri replies by shoving him back onto the bed and climbing on top of him.

“Easy now,” Victor huffs, laughing. “With that much fire in your eyes, you’ll burn something or someone.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri says. “I’ve always—”

The door to their room is kicked in by a very, very angry Yuri. Yuuri’s first instinct is to cross his hands over his chest while Viktor just groans and lets his head thump against the bed. Yuri takes two steps into the room and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Yuuko tackles him to the floor.

“Yuuri!” she calls. “Get out of here! Natasha kidnapped Angelo, we have to go!”

Viktor reaches forward to do—something, Yuuri will never know, because he swings the most desperate punch of his life and socks Viktor across the face. He rolls out of the bed and manages to grab his clothing before racing out of the room, Yuuko on his tail. Minami, having disposed of her suitors, is by the stairwell, waving them on. They race down the stairs and through the lobby of the hotel into the street: one well-dressed girl, one well-dressed woman, and a man missing half of his tux.

“ _Should I….should I even ask?_ ” Phichit says into their earpieces.

“No,” Minami says.

“No,” Yuuko says.

“Let’s never talk about it ever, actually,” Yuuri says.

 

\---------------------------

 

“Viktor!” Yuri shrieks. “He’s getting away!”

Viktor sits up in bed, rubbing his cheek where a bruise is beginning to form. “Ow?” he says.

“Viktor!” Yuri yells again.

“That hurt,” Viktor says, amazed. “That actually…he didn’t hold back at all.”

“Viktor, you fuck—”

“Oh, leave it, would you?” Viktor snaps. “They aren’t even our targets. Natasha has him. The day is ours.”

He proceeds to burst out laughing.

“Jesus,” Yuri says. “How hard did he hit you?”

“Yuri, oh Yuri, darling,” Viktor says. “I think I’m in love.”

“Uh,” Yuri says.

“It was just obsession before but he _played_ me,” Viktor says, excited. “He played my strengths against me, came at me from an angle I never expected. He’s so resourceful. He even played my humanity against me. Wow!” Viktor collapses back against the bed. “I love him, Yuri.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuri mutters. “See if the big bosses pit you against him when you’re this compromised.”

“Oh, they will,” Viktor says, smiling. “They will.”

**Author's Note:**

> find my ass on social media: [twitter](https://twitter.com/sleepyficteer) | [tumblr](http://kiribakus.tumblr.com/)


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